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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22435519">5am</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pechebaie/pseuds/pechebaie'>pechebaie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Time Stamps [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Shiratorizawa, early morning serving practice, they have a kind-of heart 2 heart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:01:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22435519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pechebaie/pseuds/pechebaie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They need to talk, Eita knows. There’s so much between them right now, unsaid. Eita knows Shirabu thinks he hates him, and he knows that Shirabu probably feels guilty, and he knows that he’s been annoying himself with his dirty looks and his anger. It’s hard to talk, though, when every word gets stuck in his throat.</p>
<p>+++</p>
<p>Semi and Shirabu have a much-needed conversation.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Semi Eita &amp; Shirabu Kenjirou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Time Stamps [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/989895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>5am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eita stands in the entrance of the gym, watching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu is practicing his serves alone. Only a couple of the overhead lights are on, and an uncharacteristic, late April snow is gently falling outside. Practice doesn’t start for another hour and a half.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eita knows why he’s here so early, but why the hell is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shirabu</span>
  </em>
  <span> here?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a great opportunity, really, for them to talk. They do need to talk, Eita knows. There’s so much between them right now, unsaid. Eita knows Shirabu thinks he hates him, and he knows that Shirabu probably feels guilty (he won’t show it, though, because god forbid Shirabu Kenjirou show concern or guilt or anything like that for someone else that he barely respects), and he knows that he’s been annoying himself with his dirty looks and the anger that he barely keeps under wraps. It’s hard to talk, though, when every word gets stuck in his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ball slams down on the other side of the net with a smack. Shirabu wipes his brow, walks to collect the ball, and Eita slides the gym door shut, makes sure it’s loud when it closes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu flinches at the sound. When he sees Eita standing in the doorway, he frowns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t it a little early to be here?” Eita calls to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu pushes his bangs out of his eyes. “I could say the same to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fair.” Eita walks over to him, unwinding his scarf on his way. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> say. It’s hard enough dealing with Tendou and Reon’s constant reassurances that he’s still important and valuable to the team himself, and he figures giving Shirabu tips on his serving form might make him feel the same way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he stops walking in front of Shirabu, looks just past his shoulder instead of meeting his eyes, thinks about what he can, what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span>, say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Eita actually looks at Shirabu, he finds genuine concern.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eita says. “Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you here at five-thirty, then?” Shirabu fidgets with the ball in his hands; he’s nervous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I usually come early,” Eita says. He’s being honest. “Early bird gets the worm, and all that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu doesn’t say anything to that. He looks anxious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay?” Eita asks, and the concern in his voice surprises himself. “It’s awfully early for you to be awake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really.” Shirabu doesn’t explain further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eita sets his gym bag down, sits, and starts stretching. He’s in the middle of the court that Shirabu’s been practicing on, but it’s fine. Shirabu doesn’t exactly look like he wants to continue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he actually sits down as well, stretches out his legs and tries to touch his toes. It always surprises Eita how not-flexible Shirabu is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should talk,” Eita says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu doesn’t answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eita takes a deep breath and huffs it all out, fast. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick. It was uncalled for, and you didn’t do anything to deserve it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu stops trying to touch his toes and turns his attention instead to picking at the beds of his nails. “In all fairness, Semi-san, I did take your spot on first string.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eita pretends that that doesn’t make his fists clench, that it doesn’t make his teeth grind together and that hot, wet feeling (anger? envy?) flare up in his chest. “That wasn’t exactly your choice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu, again, doesn’t answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s just a lot of tension,” Eita tries to explain, “between us. As I’m sure you’ve noticed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think anyone’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>failed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to notice that,” Shirabu grumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which is why we should talk about it,” Eita goes on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu looks up from his nails and meets Eita’s gaze. His eyes are wide, and for the first time in months, Eita’s reminded that Shirabu is younger than him. He has more baby fat in his cheeks, and his eyes still have that round, almost child-like appearance that Eita’s own lost years ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...You know I don’t, like, hate you, right?” Eita asks. He regrets it the moment the words are out of his mouth because Shirabu’s mouth twists and he turns his gaze to the floor. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Eita says. “That’d be really fucking stupid, Shirabu, you know that, right?” He realises he’s being a little rude here, but Eita doesn’t have it in him to care </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> much, not at five-thirty in the morning. “You didn’t do anything. It was Washijou’s choice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re mad at me over it,” Shirabu says. He’s still looking at the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean. Yeah, but, like-” Eita cuts himself off. He bites at one of his nails and tries to think how to explain it. “I don’t know. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> be. I don’t want to be. Like, yeah, I’m upset and angry and I feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>robbed</span>
  </em>
  <span> of something I </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserve</span>
  </em>
  <span> and worked so hard for for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but-” He cuts himself off again and huffs an angry sigh. “It’s not like you went up to Washijou or something and </span>
  <em>
    <span>made</span>
  </em>
  <span> him take me off first string.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu hums tonelessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t hate you,” Eita says again. “I’m mad about what’s happened and I’m sorry that I’ve been kinda taking it out on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu looks up at him and Eita turns his gaze to the ceiling, not wanting to meet his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I’ve been so rude to you,” Shirabu says, “I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eita snorts. “You guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well.” Shirabu sighs and lies down, stretches his arms out over his head. “Sometimes the way you say things is really condescending. And I don’t know if you’re trying to be or not, and it’s really annoying. So I’m just rude back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shirabu, you’re rude to </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Eita points out. “Well. Not to Wakatoshi, but.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I go out of my way to be rude to you.” Shirabu pauses, then adds, “and Tendou-san.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eita snorts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I get that you’re trying to help when you tell me shit like “Toss to people other than Ushijima-san” or “Don’t forget Goshiki likes his tosses closer to the net” but it’s stuff that I already </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and honestly it makes me feel inadequate,” Shirabu says. “Like I said, it feels condescending.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eita lies down, then, next to him. There’s maybe a whole foot of space between them. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu shrugs. “It’s not that big a deal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> though,” Eita insists. “I don’t want things to keep being </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span> between us. We’re teammates, and we’re both setters; there’s a lot we can learn from each other, and we have to be able to play off of each other, too. None of that’s gonna happen if we can’t communicate and treat each other like human beings.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Shirabu says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly,” says Eita, “I think I’m the one who should be apologising.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, Shirabu shrugs. “I probably would’ve acted the same way if I lost my spot to a first year. I can’t really blame you for lashing out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“”Lashing out” makes it sound like I’ve been beating you up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well. You did hit me with a ball once.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On </span>
  <em>
    <span>accident</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu turns to look at him and raises his eyebrows skeptically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>, oh, my god.” Eita closes his eyes and sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a lot more that he wants to say. There’s so much more, in his mind, his chest, his throat, that he wants to get out. A better, sincere apology for the way he’s acted toward Shirabu at times. But this, he supposes, is a start.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits up, stretches his arms over his head. “You want some help serving?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu sighs, still on the floor. “I guess. Sure. That’s kinda your thing now, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to work on your run-up for jump serves more,” Eita says, and he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shirabu rolling his eyes beside him. “It’s too gallop-y. You want something more stable, or you’re never gonna make it in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu sits up and glares. “And how am I supposed to fix that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here.” Eita pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up a video compilation of jump serves. “Watch this and think about doing the motions while you watch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu looks skeptical.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear it helps,” Eita says. “When you watch other people do something, it starts to make more sense to you or some shit, I don’t know. I watched these for hours back in middle school when I was learning how to jump serve.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hours,” Shirabu mutters, and he takes Eita’s phone. “Christ.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eita stands up and brushes off his thighs. There’s no dust or snow or anything on them, but the motion is a comfort. “I’m gonna go change, then we can work on serves together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shirabu doesn’t answer, but he also doesn’t groan or roll his eyes, and so Eita counts that as a win.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They still have a lot to talk about, to work through, but this, Eita thinks, is a start.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i do think semi&amp;shirabu would be good friends if they worked through their shit in regards 2 shirabu taking semis spot as a starter, n i WANT them 2 b friends, i like their dynamic a lot.. so. here they r</p>
<p>im on twitter @pechebaie + tumblr @semibf! please come talk 2 me abt haikyuu :3c</p></blockquote></div></div>
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